Her Reflection
http://presssend.blogspot.com/2010/03/her-reflection.html
Like Climbing Vines of Ivy
http://presssend.blogspot.com/2011/02/like-climbing-vines-of-ivy.html
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looking back
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tequila stream of consciousness (2003 – a ballerina)
all this travel
and the world slips
back in line with
stars
splintered dock where the black waves
lap close to my splintered feet
and crash just a bit white and
a few feet below me
[you aren’t there]
but one man tried to kiss, hold and grab
before i shoved and clawed
and ran on splintered toes
tippy toeing and ballerina-like
jumping back in the sky
you would say
i was drunk again
tequila shots and beer
muddling up what was meant to be
and not.
how in my mind
i would see myself a dancer
behind a curtain
black dark curtain sky
in my mind
i’m the pretty “can’t take your eyes off”
woman, not girl,
but again all this travel
and lack of sleep
makes me crazy
look at how the sand
reminds me to
take shoes off. lay softly still.
forget about you.
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victory letters (2)
above in steel it
is ws g90 cs/b
it’s granular and upside down.
it means nothing to me, this me
head thrown back,
headache pinching one side.
florescent lighting affects the metal
and creates a ripple effect
i start to see patterns
numbers – letters – squares.
i notice the ws repeat
i see the secret messages and the meaning
is pinching my brain.
my neck stiffens
but i don’t look away.
the world relies on my ability
to decipher the codesoon the walls will fall to the side
and before the darkness
i will rise in victory.
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straw sandals by Jennifer Marin [Guest Post]
So, I like everything about this guest post – from the message preface to the deceptively simple verse. Jennifer Marin is a fabulous designer (among other talents) but has never considered herself a poet, at least not that I know of. Goes to show that everyone has a little poetry in their soul 🙂 Please follow her at @Hungry4Design
“Looks like my handwriting…. Found it in my 2006 notebook – from the very first 3 months I was here [United States from Venezuela]
Another year is gone
A travelers shade on my head
Straw sandals at my feet”
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living alone
days without
wordsi am nothing more
than
vaporwater on the stove boils
til drythe hiss of a gas flame
laments
the lossa cool glass sits with
a clink
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West Virginia Man Dreams
Yellow corvette take me around
those American
curves, hug those
hills on Rt 901 and
find me a woman
with diesel-stained eyes.
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airport blues (if it was you)
drinking real chocolate milk and it settles into my bones with
a sweet sigh.everyone around me is in such a hurry; they race to another day,
like its just another flight.i thought i just saw your face but it was another in a hat in an airport
far from home.if it was you,
you were booking another flight without saying hello or goodbye.
If it was you,
i guess i would let you go and prepare for another restless sleep…i would be the one
you’d watch who constantly searches, trying to figure out why everyone is in
such a hurry.if it was you,
you’re finally out of sight and i can stop straining my neck to see the face
that isn’t you.decadent memories rot teeth. here we go now. hurry up and leave.
(circa 2002 in sketch journal form)
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untitled (on elk neck road)
on elk neck road
those lonely
or pretending otherwise
men
watch the
naked
woman
addicted to eyes
play pool
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great grandmother (written by my great grandmother Alice B Johnson)
This poem was written by my great grandmother Alice B. Johnson and is taken from her book, Where Children Live (1958). While not the style I write in, I think it’s beautiful and sweet, and I’m happy to post it here. For more from Alice B. Johnson, click on her name under categories.
Great Grandmother
The years rest like a diadem
Upon your silver hair —
Serenity is like a cloak
That you gently wear.Years of loving kindness show
Upon your furrowed brow,
Like promised harvest that has known
The earth, the sun, the plow.Life’s burdens have not passed you by,
Nor sorrow’s parting loss —
Yours the constant faith that sees
The crown beyond the cross.No bitterness or fear has left
Upon your heart its trace —
Love is the mirrored beauty seen
Reflected in your face.Tenderly and lovingly
With your arms you hold
Your precious great-grandaughter,
Less than one year old.She doesn’t see the marks of time,
Where age has sifted through —
She only knows the comfort and
The blessedness of you.
Poetry by JC Snyder 